North Fork (15 page)

And there I am just out of her son's shower, nice body, wearing this Old Navy stuff I got on sale with lots of cheapo silver on my ears and a fake diamond in my nose, combing my maroon
hair. At least I don't have a tattoo yet. I'm putting it off until I'm eighteen. She smiled icicles at me.

“Introduce me to your friend, Bradley,” she said with that professional politeness the snooty girls at the make-up counter in Macy's use.

“This is Natalie. Natalie, this is Jean Stanfield, my mom.”

I was proud of him. You could feel the tension between them, but he didn't cower or let her make me feel small.

I said, “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Stanfield.”

I met her eyes for a brief moment and felt the assumption behind them that she would never stoop to say out loud. She thought Brad had brought me home to get even with her by having sex with a trampy girl, using me to soil her already fouled house.

I looked her in the eye and said, “Brad and I spent the afternoon on the lake. He said you grew up here, in the other house. It's very beautiful. You're awfully lucky.”

More icicles and the dismissal, “It's nice you got a chance to enjoy it, Natalie. Bradley, don't forget that your grandparents are coming home tonight. I know you'll want to be here, so you should take your friend home early. The Jensens are coming for lunch tomorrow. They're coming early and Lauren will be with them. She's dying to see you.”

With that, she was up the stairs and we were alone again.

“I didn't lie, did I?” Brad said.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I was the son of a bitch. And now you've met her. My grandparents are actually nice.”

Of course I wanted to ask about Lauren, but I didn't. I was surprised at the way Brad just tuned his mother out after she left. We took our time eating the sandwiches, then watched a movie and hung out for a while before he took me home. That was last night. It might have been too late to see his grandparents when
he got home, but I'm pretty sure that when he calls he'll tell me about his day, probably answering my curiosity about Lauren.

I wonder if he and his mom got along before he walked in on her, and if she's been having affairs all along, but this is the first time she got caught, or if it's something new that just happened and she's having to adjust, figure out how to make her world keep working. Everyone has a story. Now, because of Brad, she's in my life too, but in spite of her, it was still a pretty nice day.

After Grant dropped me off that day I met him, I leaned the bike against the side of the house, not bothering to lock it, and went in. The only reason I remembered his name is because his last name is Mackenzie, the same as my real father's. He was very polite when I got in the car and he introduced himself, like he understood that I might be a little wary. I ended up telling him my name too, the one I go by here, Amy Mackenzie, mainly because it took me by surprise that his last name is the same. It still feels good to be rid of the name connection to Sterling.

For the rest of the day, I took a lot of Ibuprophen, read, iced my ankle, and pretty much just vegged out. The ice packs helped, and even though my foot was still pretty sore, I managed to work a short shift the next day. One of Char's friends gave me a ride to work. I would have gone home on the bus, but Leigh gave me a ride to save me from having to walk the several blocks from the bus stop to my house. It's hard to think of Leigh as my boss or as Mr. Wickam. He acts young and I've even seen him out with his friends a few times at some of the bars we go to.

It's not that far from the restaurant to the house, but the traffic was heavy and we were stuck long enough so that Leigh felt the need to make conversation. He asked how I hurt my ankle. I thought he was just being polite, but I told him what happened because it gave me something to say. It turns out he rides a mountain bike and knows a good bike shop. He didn't think it would cost much to replace the chain, but the bike would have to
go to the shop. He offered to drop it off there for me on his way back to the restaurant. I could pick it up later and ride it home. He even had a bike rack on his car, so I was feeling pretty happy. My problem was solved. Until we pulled up in front of the house.

The bike was gone.

We looked around the side and in the back yard in case Ian or Char had moved it. We even looked in the garage, which is full of Ian's uncle's stuff. I was pretty sure it wouldn't be there and it wasn't. It was a little weird bringing Leigh into the house, which was even messier than usual, but, like me, he had a hard time believing the bike had been stolen, and it became our project to look together. I apologized for the messy house because he is my boss and I work in a restaurant, so cleanliness does matter. I didn't want him to think I'm a slob. The experience broadened my view of him. He was nice, not like some spoiled rich kid, and he's not bad-looking either.

That evening I was watching TV alone when Grant showed up. We don't have cable, so there's not much on. I had finished my book and was trying to stay off my foot, and I was watching a news program about the war in Iraq. It all seems like such a mess where everyone is going to lose. You'd think if the Iraqis could talk to each other without everyone being so stubborn, they wouldn't have to kill each other.

I was really startled when I opened the door. I mean Grant was the last person I expected to see. He was dressed casually, but again, quality stuff, a really nice polo, chinos and loafers. He's younger than Sterling, but seems more like that generation and dresses that way. Just off the porch behind him, the bike was standing upright on the kickstand. I noticed immediately that the chain had been fixed.

He gestured toward it. “Good as new,” he said.

At first I was speechless.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said.

“I don't know what to say,” was what came out. It wasn't the happy kind of surprise he was looking for. “I thought it was stolen. It surprised me that anyone would want it. Now I'm even more surprised.”

“I'm sorry I worried you. I was afraid that if I waited until you returned, you might not let me do it. You seem very independent. I hope you'll forgive me and indulge me this. It's been quite fun, actually.”

I thought of Leigh's offer to get it fixed, and how his concern made me like him more, and how maybe if you're a guy, it's fun to help a damsel in distress. But this gave me one of those wary feelings. I'm not good at speaking my mind, so I thought about what Natalie would do in this situation, and I said what I thought she might say.

“So why? Why me? Do you go around getting people's stuff fixed? I can take care of myself. I'm not some starving, stray dog. I came home from work earlier with a friend to pick up the bike to get it fixed. I though it had been stolen. So yeah, I was upset.”

“I'm sorry. You are absolutely right. I should have waited and asked.”

“You could have left a note.”

He looked hurt and it made me feel bad; maybe he did just want to be helpful and make the world a better place. I had presented him with an opportunity and he had taken advantage of it. Now I was being a jerk.

“Look, it was a really nice thing to do,” I said. “And people usually don't go around being nice. When it was gone I got upset, but that's no reason to be rude. I apologize. Thank you. You're a nice man and you did a very thoughtful thing.”

He smiled. “No. You're right. I was out of line. I'm the one who should apologize. I was being selfish and thoughtless, but I really do take pleasure in smoothing out life's little bumps. On
my way home after dropping you off, I noticed a bike repair shop, and then earlier today I was in your neighborhood. It was very spur-of-the-moment. I knocked on the door to tell you, but you weren't home. Fixing your bike seemed like such an easy way to make someone happy, but I messed it up.”

“It was just a communication problem. It's not the end of the world.”

“Can we be friends anyway?” He held out his hand.

“Friends,” I said. I shook his hand. “And now I don't have to take the bus tomorrow. Thanks, friend.”

As he was opening his car door to leave, he turned and said, “Are you hungry? Can a friend buy a friend a bite to eat?”

I hadn't had anything but a few Doritos and a banana since I left the restaurant that afternoon. I was hungry and it seemed harmless enough. After all, we had the same last name. He could even be my uncle.

So Grant took me to dinner. We went to this little town called Brentwood Bay. It's on the Saanich Inlet. It took about half an hour to get there and I could have said no, but I didn't. Here's how it happened. I got in the car. Remember, it's a Cadillac and quite nice, but it's not like I haven't ridden in nice cars before. Sterling drives a Mercedes. We were heading towards town, like he had a particular place in mind, when he looked over and said, “Do you need to be back right away?”

“I have to work tomorrow, but I don't have to open up or do breakfast. I'm good for a while.”

“We live in a beautiful city. I'm sure you know that already, but there are some places outside the city that are quite wonderful.” He looked at his watch. “We still have enough daylight. I know the perfect place to eat, but it's a bit of a drive. It will be worth it. Do you mind?”

I wasn't totally comfortable with the idea, so I said, “I'm not dressed for a nice restaurant.”

“You look fine,” he said. “If we always bend to society's rules, we miss half the joy in life.”

So I agreed to go.

We headed out of town toward the ferry dock. He asked me if I had been to Butchart Gardens, and when I said I hadn't, he promised to take me. He said that when the roses were in bloom it was truly glorious. I noticed the word, “glorious,” because it's not a word people in the Valley often use. He was like a tour guide and a salesman at the same time, very enthusiastic, and it
made me wonder if he sold real estate, like Sterling.

Listening to him made me get over my nervousness about going with him. He was very polite and thoughtful, and his talk was interesting. When we got there, the restaurant had a great view of the inlet. Since it was a weeknight and a little late for dinner, it was pretty low-key inside. I could tell when we drove up that it would be expensive, so, thinking like Natalie, I said,

“For a friend buying a friend a bite to eat, this is pretty upscale. When it's my turn, I'll feel inadequate.”

“This is you doing me a favor,” he said. “Don't let it make you uncomfortable. I like good food and a nice view. My life has been good to me and I can afford them. I enjoy being with my friends. You're my friend. I'll tell you up front, I don't expect you to reciprocate. You've forgiven me for my thoughtlessness today and you're sharing your time. So humor me and please let me do this for you.”

So I did.

Sterling and Bonnie like expensive restaurants, and I've had plenty of experience with them, which means the restaurant wasn't intimidating. I was comparing Grant to Sterling in the same situation. Sterling can be pushy and is often rude to the waiters. Grant was very polite.

He ordered a bottle of wine, Pinot Gris from Oregon, just for me, because he ate a steak and even I know that you're supposed to drink red wine with steak. The crab-dip hors d'oeuvres were amazing. I ordered halibut for my entree. It was fresh, with this lemon sauce that was a specialty of the restaurant. Everything was wonderful. Remember, I'd been eating most of my meals at Leigh's restaurant and it's not bad, but it's heavy and greasy and a little on the boring side. Since I haven't had a lot of drinking experience, I just sipped the wine.

As we ate, Grant asked the kind of questions you would ask when you're trying to get to know someone. I didn't feel like he
was prying. He wanted to know if I grew up in Victoria, that kind of thing. I won't bore you by trying to recreate the conversation. Considering my situation as a fugitive runaway, it would have been perfectly reasonable for me to stay in character as Amy and tell the story I'd been telling about being born in Canada but growing up in Seattle and coming here to settle something about my origin. After all, my birth certificate says I really am Amy.

Instead I told him this story about growing up in California. Sterling has family in California and we've visited them. I said I went to Redwood High School because one of my fake cousins, Sterling's nephew, went there, and a long time ago Robin Williams went there too, so at least I knew it was a real place. I was vague about specifics, but Grant didn't press me. He really is a master at making you feel comfortable.

If you think about it, and I have had to lately, there are lots of little stories you can tell about yourself that aren't specific to a place. I mean schools are pretty much the same everywhere, and situations between people aren't much different either, so I've been learning to filter everything I say so that it could have happened in Seattle or California instead of the Valley. Once you get the hang of it, it's not that hard.

Fate had brought me this far. And if I really wanted to know the truth about myself, he might have been the perfect connection. For all I knew, he could really be my uncle or cousin or something. Or he could have some government job where he might be able to find the answers to the questions I have about my roots.

He has traveled all over the world and knows about food and wine and puts a lot of importance on the atmosphere of a place, like how the food, the wine, the smells, the view and feel of a place go together to set up a perfect mood. He's a good storyteller and can make you see what he's describing. He puts you under this intimate spell, so there weren't any uncomfortably quiet moments, in spite of the fact that I didn't have much to say. The
wine was good with the halibut, and looking out through the fading light at this beautiful tree-lined fjord, I sipped it while I listened.